


Run

by Squeeb100



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: AU, Crona uses they/them pronouns, Dystopian society, Gen, ResBang 2016, and ragnarok only speaks in Crona's thoughts because i kind of hate him and hate writing him, there are a lot of grey areas in the morality of this society and they aren't fully explored here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9182131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeeb100/pseuds/Squeeb100
Summary: Years ago, people with weapon and witch blood were deemed too dangerous to coexist with humans. World governments began to pick them off one by one, until the last remaining concentration of mixed weapon and human blood lies within the fences of Death City in the Nevada desert. When a weapon manifests at age 13, they are subject to persecution by the government. It's Soul's 13th birthday when he and Maka decide to run and escape the confines of the walls.





	1. Chapter 1

Winters within the fences were cold and dry. A bitter wind whipped between the buildings, catching a pair of pigtails and tossing them about.The sky was overcast but Maka knew better than to hope for snowfall after months of severe drought. The wind ruffled the corners of her trench coat, permeating the heavy material and chilling her through her sweater; Maka shivered. She was going to kill that boy when she finally tracked him down. He could count on it.

She had been searching for him since early morning. The weak sunlight had roused her and warned her of his absence. Suspicion had overwhelmed her and she'd quickly set out after him – or, at least, in the direction she hoped he had gone. She still didn't know where he had hidden after several hours of aimlessly wandering the cobblestone alleyways, and her stomach was trying to convince her to turn back. She'd nearly come full circle by this point, she realized as she wandered through the slums of Death City. People were beginning to emerge from their homes, and despite her relative safety Maka felt the need to pull the collar of her jacket up to conceal her face.

Pausing to rest and coughing up a bit of cold air, Maka leaned against the wall of an unidentifiable building, a food processing plant perhaps, and stared at the opposite wall. “Death to heretics” was spray-painted there in large graffiti letters. She sighed.

“He probably just went back to the inn,” she decided with yet another sigh before turning around to retrace her steps. She'd need to work in an hour or so anyway, she reasoned.  
The street lamps had begun to flicker out one by one.

The walk back to the inn was relatively short, but it took almost double the time courtesy of several detours in hope of locating her friend. She sighed in relief when she entered the building; it was small and homey, possibly painted pink at one point in its history, and the proprietor had at least attempted to grow some flowers in the window baskets. Best of all, in Maka's opinion at least, the building was heated. A small bell tinkled as she shut the door behind her, a whoosh of warm air escaping into the frigid streets.

A curvy blonde woman looked up expectantly at the sound, and her features lit up when she saw Maka. “Good morning, Maka!” she greeted the girl.

“Good morning, Marie,” Maka returned absently. “Have you seen Soul around?”

The woman contemplated the question for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I don't think so. Isn't it his birthday today?”

“Yes,” Maka nodded. “He's thirteen. And missing. I'm worried about him.”

“It's a bit early to jump to conclusions, don't you think?” There was no judgement in Marie's voice, only comfort. She had, of course, realized that the boy's birthday was approaching – she just hadn't comprehended the speed with with it was coming on. “He'll be alright.”

“I think he's just hiding. I'm going to go get warmed up and then I'll be right down. I'll look for him after work.”

“Okay, Maka.” Marie smiled warmly and returned to reading her tabloid newspaper with a somewhat concerned scowl.

Maka ascended the stairs to the bedroom she shared with Soul and cast a glance over to his mattress on the floor. The bed was still neatly made and he was still nowhere to be seen. He would certainly return by nightfall, she reasoned. She pulled her sweater off and replaced it with her uniform, a simple starched shirt, a sweater vest, a skirt, and a tie. It was a bit less comfortable than a sweater and jeans, but it looked nicer and definitely was more appealing to customers. She restyled her hair, trying to diminish the frizz from the wind a bit, and then deemed herself presentable and returned to the first floor and exited the main building through a side door. The bar was a side business, but drew in nearly as much money as the inn itself. Maka was glad it was there, and that Marie was so darn nice. Working the bar during the day was her trade for renting out the attic room to live in.

Business in the bar was slow, and Maka resented the day shift. Barely anyone came in until at least five o'clock, so the majority of her day was spent standing and staring at the door, hoping a customer would walk in. When business finally picked up, the weak winter sun was waning quickly and the sky was overcast. The customers were docile in spite of their inebriation, and with the absence of fighting came the opportunity for Maka to listen in on conversations. The farmer's pigs were growing longer than they were fatter, a disappointing revelation. The public schools would be closed tomorrow for a storm warning, a detail Maka lingered, surprised, on for a bit longer; if Soul hadn't returned by the next day, she could go out looking for him again. The townsfolk were rumoring a purge of the downtown area, and human citizens were urged to remain calm and indoors. Maka worried at her lip, passing it off as a rumor. The idea of hunters entering the streets in broad daylight to sift through the population would be laughable if it didn’t ignite a small spark of worry in the back of her mind.

The minute hand rounded the clock twice more before Marie appeared in the doorway. A fluffy collar framed her face, the tips of her golden hair frosty.

“You can come in now, Maka. Did you get anything to eat?” She approached the bar and took Maka's place. The evening shift at the bar was more dangerous than the day shift, obviously, and Maka made a habit of getting to bed in a timely manner anyway, so Marie always came in at around seven to relieve her of duty.

“Not for dinner. I'll grab something on the way out.” Maka unfastened her apron and smiled. Marie winked at her. “Did Soul ever show up?”

The blonde shook her head. “Do you have any idea at all where he's gone?”

“No,” Maka admitted softly. “I looked everywhere I could think of.”

“I'm sure he'll come back eventually,” Marie reassured the girl, in the kind of tone that insinuated that she was not sure at all. Maka nodded and grabbed a few rolls from the counter.

“School's out tomorrow anyway, I think” she sighed. “I can go after him then.”

“Okay. Be careful. Goodnight, Maka,” Marie waved absentmindedly as she attended to an intoxicated customer. Maka nodded again as she fastened her coat and left the building.

The inn was much warmer than the bar, a revelation that pleased Maka anew no matter how many times it was made. The old stairs creaked as she dragged herself to her room, yawning. She was thankful for a warm, safe bed to sleep in, she thought as she finished one roll and took a bite out of the next. She opened the door to her room, and the remaining bread fell to the ground with a thunk.

“Soul!” her friend was seated on the windowsill, facing the city. At the sound of her voice he turned, flushed, exhausted, and a bit damp, and gave a halfhearted smile. “Where have you been?!” Maka rushed over to the boy.

“Ah, you know. Around,” he explained.

“Ah, yes. Around. Where it's impossible for even your closest friend to find you.” Despite the bitterness in her voice, Maka hugged Soul tightly. He was cold and wet. “I was so worried about you! Why did you leave?” When no response was offered, Maka backed away. “Why did you leave?” She asked again, with less emotion and more suspicion.  
Soul's gaze flitted to the ground and then back up at Maka. “It's my birthday today,” he said, by way of explanation.

“Yeah? And?”

“I manifested. I could only do it a little bit at first, just with my arm, but that was enough.” 

Maka rushed back in to hug her friend again. “Oh, Soul,” she whispered, dread rising in her chest. “Oh, God. What are we gonna do?”

“There's no 'we' involved, Maka,” Soul returned rationally, although she could feel him shaking. She doubted he was just cold. “I'm going to leave.”

“Leave where?”

“Leave here. I'm going to get out of here, and not come back.”

“But where would you go?”

“Outside. I'm going to leave the fences. I'm gonna get out of here altogether, out of Death City. I'll go to Las Vegas, maybe,” he laughed drily.

“You're gonna get yourself killed,” Maka said. Fear was beginning to morph into anger, a fact that became apparent as the level of her voice rose.

“So what. I'll get myself killed if I stay. My situation's shitty all around; I'd rather die trying to do something about it than just sit here and wait for them to come and off me.” Maka huffed as Soul shook her off and dumped her on the floor unceremoniously, standing up to dig through the battered trunk at the end of his bed. “What do you take to survive winter in the desert?”

“Not funny, Soul.”

“Not joking.” He continued to rifle through his belongings as Maka picked herself up.

“It's a terrible idea. You won't make it through one night. And that's not a personal slight toward you,” Maka added when he opened his mouth. “There are bounty hunters everywhere, and they go after anything and everything that moves at night.”

“There's government agents everywhere too, and sooner or later they'll come around and test all of our blood, perceived human or not.”

“That’s ridiculous. And even if they do, the inn is safe!”

“It may not always be. Look, do you want to lose another friend to these sickos?”

“No,” Maka whispered. “I don't want to lose anyone else to these sickos. And that's why I need you to stay here. You'll be safer.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Can I see it?” Maka asked finally. Soul nodded, closing the trunk before unbuttoning his jacket and pulling it off, revealing his undershirt. Maka shielded her eyes as a sharp flash of light filled the room. She lowered her arm and squinted at the dull shine of a red and black blade. Soul smirked halfheartedly, nodding to his transformed right arm. “Scythe.  
Pretty cool, huh?”

“Looks like Papa,” Maka muttered absently, reaching out and stroking the blade. Soul flinched a little, but let her examine it. Maka's heart sunk further. It wasn't a hallucination or a prank or a terrible dream; Soul had manifested.

“I can transform all the way, but then I just end up laying on the ground kinda awkward and sad. So I decided to just not.”

Maka wiped her face with a rough sleeve. “This sucks,” she pouted.

“I'm going to leave, Maka. It's not your choice.”

Maka deliberated for a few moments before making up her mind. “Then I'm coming with you. I have weapon blood, too.” Soul sat up and stared at Maka, ruby eyes piercing her emerald ones.

“You haven't manifested.”

“But I turned thirteen last year. I could manifest any time,” Maka pointed out.

“Or you could not.”

“Soul, Death City is the last remaining concentration of weapon genes in the Americas. Sooner or later, the government will start zoning in on everyone with any amount of weapon blood, not just those that show the physical signs. It's only a matter of time before they start killing off dormant weapons as well.”

“Your logic sucks,” was all that Soul said. “Like, really sucks. 'Oh, Soul, don't go, you'll be fine if you stay!'” his voice was a cruel imitation at best. “'Oh, Soul, I have to come, they'll kill me if I stay!' You can't come. It's too dangerous. You already tried this once, and you almost died. You're not doing it again.”  
His words stung. “Whose logic sucks now?”

“I'm not letting you come.”

“I'm going to come, Soul,” Maka said, smirking slightly. “It's not your choice.”

“Fine. I'm leaving at sundown tomorrow to go to the southern fence. If you want to come, be ready and get up. I'm going to go pack some food. You pack some...lady stuff, I guess.”

Maka opened her mouth to retort, but Soul was gone already. She turned to look out the window again.

It was snowing.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been fourteen months earlier when Maka made her first escape attempt.

It was close to sundown. Rays of light filtered softly between the tops of buildings, chimneys and church spires casting airborne shadows. The air was chilly, but not freezing yet. 

Maka ducked behind a trash can and then, after looking both ways, sprinted across the street. Posters lined the brick walls, public service announcements and advertisements for privately owned, probably illegal, extermination companies.

_“REMEMBER:_  
Light Subsides, Stay Inside  
Weapon Hunters Will Be Out Every Night After Dark  
Citizens Beware” 

_“ALL MANIFESTED WEAPONS OVER THIRTEEN_  
YEARS OF AGE  
WILL BE EXTERMINATED ON SIGHT” 

_“See a weapon?_  
Report all sightings to:  
424-256-4000” 

_“ANY PERSONS HOUSING A_  
MANIFESTED WEAPON WILL BE TURNED INTO  
DEATH CITY GOVERNMENT  
FOR FURTHER INVESTIGATION AND BLOOD TESTS” 

_“Remember: Weapons are a Hazard to Public Safety_  
Stay alive: report weapon sightings to Death City Municipal Building  
or call 424-256-4000” 

Suppressing a shudder, Maka trotted down the alley. As she entered the ghettos of Death City, her hands began to shake. Private bounty hunters and teenagers looking for kicks were abundant here, not to mention the witches. Churches, benches and walls were water stained and coated in graffiti. “MUTANTS!” was at the bus stop and “WEAPON LOVERS!” dripped down the side of the church. Shivering people lined the streets and Maka was overwhelmed by how many weapon wavelengths were in the area. At least the government didn't have any people like her working for them; if they had, these people would be long dead. Blood tests were expensive and took longer to process, a fact that many people with witch or weapon blood were surely thankful for.

It was true that she had traveled this path hundreds of times in the past, but today there was a sense of gravity to the thought that this could be the last time. Turning to take in the sights and sounds as the last threads of daylight slipped behind the towering government centers in the distance, Maka made her way quickly over the last few feet of her journey.

Snow began to fall in gentle flurries. Maka paused to take in her destination; a dilapidated house at the end of the street, overgrown, covered with crawling, reaching vines and leaning to the right on a rotting foundation. Avoiding the gutter (there were almost certainly snakes in there, regardless of the time of year), she skirted around the house and crouched behind a rampant thorn bush.

Maka reached under the thorn bush and ran her hand over the ground until it came to rest on a small, smooth rock. Carefully, she picked it up and tied a string around it tightly. Attached was a stained notecard covered in her loopy, wandering handwriting.

_“Plan is a go so far. Come ASAP.  
-M”_

Taking a deep breath, Maka edged her way cautiously over to the window, hoping that nothing had come up to throw a wrench in her plan. The window was open, at least; breathing a sigh of relief, she dropped the rock gently behind the drawn curtains. She cringed when it clunked loudly to the floor, eliciting a squeak of surprise from inside the room. Silence followed, then the sound of footsteps in a hall within the building. Somebody turned the tap on.

“What was that?” a sickeningly false-sweet voice.

“I fell. On the floor. Also I dropped a plate. And a rock.” another voice, shaking a bit as its owner grappled for an explanation. Maka laid her head against the window frame in defeat, holding her breath. She had never met a worse liar.

“At the same time?”

“Here's the rock.” The owner of the voice stopped pretending to wash dishes. There was a rustle as the rock was picked up and a silence as it was examined. Maka hoped to to God that the letter had been removed first.

“Where did you get a rock?” Slight confusion that the honey-coated facade had failed to mask.

“The floor.” despite everything, Maka had to stifle a giggle.

“And why is the window open?” The flimsy lie melted completely as the angry woman strode over to the window. “It is freezing in this house! We do not have a boiler!”

“Fresh air?”

“You weren't thinking about leaving, were you?”

“N-no! I would never-” the voice was lost as the window slammed shut. It locked with a click and all that Maka could glean from the conversation was that it wasn't very pleasant. 

Eventually, the voices grew soft enough that Maka pressed her ear up against the frosty glass.

The lock on the back door clicked and Maka jumped as the handle turned. She stood and rolled under the fence, hiding behind a tangle of what looked to be dead roses just   
before the door opened and a tall, blonde woman emerged. The woman turned and locked the door, unaware that she was being glared at from behind a runaway rosebush, and walked around to the front of the house and down the street. Maka couldn't believe their luck; a major obstacle to her plan had moved herself out of the way of her own accord.

But as the minutes stretched by, her nerves returned. Nothing moved in the house. Something was wrong. Just as Maka's hands started to shake once again, the window creaked open and a figure cautiously slipped outside. Maka waved and her friend jogged over after pushing the window shut again, smiling tensely.

“Hi, Maka.”

“Hi, Crona. Happy birthday. What took you so long? I almost panicked.”

“Lady Medusa locked the window and took the key with her when she went out. She thought I was going to run away. Which I was, but I wasn't expecting her to think it. I had to pick the lock but I was so nervous that I kept slipping up. And I had to get my coat on. Sorry.”

“It's fine! It's getting really dark, though,” Maka worried. “It’ll be past curfew soon, and the only people on the streets will be either bounty hunters, government agents, criminals, or people like us, trying to escape. If anyone sees us they’ll be immediately suspicious.”

“Yeah.”

“But I brought you something. Here.” Maka took a piece of tissue paper out of her pocket and unwrapped two small candies. “One for you and one for Ragnarok.”

“Thank you so much...I didn't bring you anything. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine. When we get out of here it will be present enough. It's not even my birthday for a few more days. We'll be fine.”

Smiling again, Crona slipped the candies, one red and one blue, into their breast pocket. “I'll save them for later. Ragnarok hasn't talked much today.” They leaned in closer to Maka and whispered, “I think he's scared.”

Giggling, Maka hugged her friend over the fence.

“Wait!” she pulled away suddenly as her Crona spoke abruptly. “Nope. He says 'I'm not scared. You little bitch.' I don't know if he's talking to me or you.”

They both laughed, embracing again. After a few moments, however, they both sobered.

“Are you ready?” Maka asked, holding her friend by the shoulders and staring into their worried cobalt eyes.

“Ready as I'll ever be. Lead the way.” Crona offered their cold hand and Maka took it between her gloves, warming it.

“Let's go this way.”

 

“You need to rest?”

“No. I'm alright. Just nervous.” Nervous was an understatement; just by holding their hand Maka could tell that Crona was practically vibrating. Or maybe it was her.

“Let's just sit down here for a moment. I'm kind of tired.” Letting go of Crona's hand momentarily, Maka crouched down and curled up in a corner formed by an old bakery meeting   
a brick wall. Following suit, Crona curled up against her. Large wet snowflakes drifted through the air, illuminated by phosphorescent lamps and signs advertising bars that could barely be seen from their position in the back alleys of the town.

Glancing around, Maka planned an escape route. Left would be good if anything approached them; in fact, left was the only option. If someone was approaching from the left, they would run straight ahead.

“What time is it, do you think?” Crona was looking up at the ruddy sky. A crescent moon glowed faintly behind its blanket of grey.

“I don't know. Maybe eight. We haven't been walking that long.”

“But we took a few detours.”

“Yeah. Still, we haven't gone far from your house. I'd say we're maybe halfway there. So far, so good.”

“I wish we didn't have to do this at night. There's too many people looking for us.”

“But it's dark,” Maka pointed out. “In daylight, people would see us trying to scale the fence. There are watch towers across from it.”

“I guess.”

Something rustled softly and Maka jumped before realizing that Crona was rummaging through their pocket. They procured the napkin from earlier and held it out to Maka. “Want   
one?”

“They're for you, silly!”

“Yeah. But something tells me Ragnarok doesn't really want his all that much.”

“That idiot. He's the weapon here. You just have to take the fall if they catch you two.” Maka had sworn that, had she remained in the city, she would have accused Crona's mother of witchcraft. It would have been a true accusation, but Crona had asked that Maka didn’t make it, even when the girl invited them to live with her after she brought their mother to justice for experimenting on her child.

“Which color?”

“I got the blue one for you, but you choose.”

“I can't tell which is which, it's too dark.”

“Then I'll pick a random one and we'll both be pleasantly surprised,” Maka decided. She reached down and plucked a candy out of the napkin. Crona took the other one. “Three, two...one!” She popped the candy in her mouth. Cherry.

“Maka?”

“Hm?”

“Happy birthday.”

“Why do you keep saying that? It's your birthday today! Mine's not 'till Wednesday!”

Crona hummed softly as if to say that they didn't know. It was quiet for a few moments as the two children, barely children anymore, huddled together against the cold.

“Maka?”

“Hm?”

“What do they do with weapons if they catch them?”

Maka pondered the question for a few moments. “I don't know,” she finally answered.

“Well what do you think?”

“Well,” Maka proceeded with caution. “I always assumed that they just killed them.” She felt Crona tense, but they didn't say anything. “But I don't really know at all. Nobody really   
does.”

“Ragnarok said that they convert them into their workers and make them fight in wars.”

“And how would Ragnarok know?”

Crona shrugged. “He says you're being rude. Of course I – he – knows...”

“Ragnarok's being mean. He's just trying to scare you. There's no reason for them to do that. Death City is the only remaining place in the world with weapon – and witch - blood.   
That's why, when we escape, we'll be safe. Nobody will recognize us as weapons or part weapon, because everyone is in here, and the government is doing its best to exterminate weapon blood altogether.”

“To make the world a safer place,” Crona recited.

“Yeah.”

“Not all weapons are bad, though.”

“No. Not all weapons are good, either.”

“Not all humans are good,” Crona shrugged.

Maka looked back up at the sky, but drew back, shocked, when a snowflake landed on her nose. Looking around, she saw that a multitude of snowflakes had started to fall, glowing slightly in the light of the street lamps.

“Wow,” Crona whispered.

“Yeah. Hey, we'd better get going,” Maka warned them. The snow would shield the two escapees somewhat from bounty hunters and weapon hunters in the streets, but it could also obscure their own vision and cause them to lose their way. Maka had mapped out a route in her mind, but she hadn't taken low visibility into account. She was relying on street signs and landmarks to deliver her to the fence.

“Mmwhy?”

“It's getting cold, and it's gonna be hard to see.” Maka stood and closed her hand around Crona's arm, helping them to straighten up. They did so slowly, cringing as their cold   
joints adjusted to the new position. Maka allowed Crona to stretch for a moment before grabbing their hand. “We're gonna go up the main street here, okay? We're gonna have to run so we don't get spotted. The street might be slippery.” Crona nodded and positioned themself behind Maka so that she could lead the way. The two were fully prepared to leave, but they had only taken a step or two when a bright fluorescent light flashed in their eyes, blinding them momentarily and causing them to freeze in their tracks.


	3. Chapter 3

Maka pushed her friend back against the wall and put a hand over their mouth.

“Friggin' kid can't have gone far.” A gruff voice, muffled by the snow (which had begun to fall alarmingly quickly), made the two friends cringe. As Maka slowly regained her vision, she realized that the light was a beam from a flashlight flicking about the cobblestone road straight ahead.

“Little bastard's prolly hidin', you checkin' all the alleys?” A second voice replied, this one feminine.

“Yeh, hold onta yer panties, I'm workin' on it!” The first voice was closer now. A jolt of terror made Maka seize up, and she turned to Crona. Her friend's eyes were wide with panic.

“I'm gonna count to three, and I want you to run to the left, okay?” she asked in a voice that was barely a whisper. Crona nodded. “I'm going to climb up onto the roof of this building and go the same way from the next alley down, alright?” Crona shook their head, holding onto Maka's hand tighter. “We can try to meet up at the church. You know where that is?” Another nod, this one slower and more reluctant. “Okay. One...” the flashlight beam flicked against the wall of the alley, illuminating a figure holding a sword hastily drawn on the wall with black spray paint.

“Two...” she could hear the hunter's footsteps now, but held herself as steady as was possible given her terror.

“Three!” She hissed, removing her hand from Crona's mouth and letting go of their hand in one swift movement. “Run!” And they were gone, sprinting down the alley formed by the backs of two adjacent buildings. Their slight figure was quickly obscured by snowfall, and in the time it had taken for it to disappear, Maka had catapulted herself off of a tin garbage can up onto the roof of the short building closest to her and begun her escape. Unfortunately, the force it had taken to propel Maka into the air had knocked the can over; it clattered loudly against the stone road, and Maka heard the two hunters yelling behind her as the beams from their flashlights cut through the air.

Maka's boots thunked heavily on the roof of the building as she built up enough speed to launch herself onto the roof of the next. The shingles were slippery, and the moment she took to regain her balance upon landing was painstaking. As soon as possible, she headed off again, taking a mental note to never run all over buildings in the snow ever again if was avoidable.

Leaping carefully from building to building, Maka scanned the horizon for the tower of the old church. Although fairly sure she was headed in the right direction, Maka found it impossible to see more than a few feet in the current flurry. She shook her head. At least the hunters wouldn’t see her very well either. She decided to continue in the direction she was currently heading and hope that it was the way to the church. Even if it wasn’t, it was the same way she had sent Crona, and they would probably be able to meet up elsewhere. 

Lost in thought, Maka had neglected to watch her step as carefully as was required for navigation on wet shingles. Her legs shot out from under her and she was falling, the creaking roof of a years-old building beneath her, and then nothing. She was thrown onto a pile of trash bags behind a building with glowing windows and cold brick walls, and there she sat with bated breath. With any luck, the hunters hadn’t tracked her fall in the snow and she would be safe.

The snow was an inch thick and the smell of garbage had begun to get to her when Maka stood up, her joints practically creaking in protest. Remembering the light inside the building, she ducked and crawled down the alley until she had reached a darker, arguably safer area. Then she ran again, nearly as unstable on the slick cobblestones as she had been on the powdery roof. Her breath came in short, visible puffs and she could see snowflakes gathering on her eyelashes. If she hadn’t been so worried for Crona, who was probably at the church already and in danger alone, she would have paused and reveled in the wet weather, possibly awestricken. Now she was just afraid and frustrated. Tonight a clear street would have been nice.

The roads were getting harder and harder to see by the time Maka realized where she was. A familiar graffiti...splash of blood, she assumed? was plastered to the cement building ahead of her. She was minutes from the old church. Maka sighed, her relief billowing away in a fog of moisture. Then she stumbled back, her breath caught midway between her mouth and her lungs. A bright light flashed ahead, darting down the alley as if attempting to escape from the gunshot that followed. Maka went weak at the knees but adrenaline spurred her on faster than ever down the narrow alleyway. Another gunshot rang through the air and Maka heard a choked gasp - her own - as she envisioned the worst. 

She bit back a scream, not wanting to alert the hunters to her presence. There wasn’t much those gunshots could be aside from them, and, fool as she was, she was knowingly sprinting straight toward them. But she knew that there also wasn’t much those gunshots could be aimed at, and that was the thought that coursed from her head to her heart to her legs and forced her forward, toward danger rather than away from it. The thought that the worst really had transpired at the church and it was her fault. 

When she finally emerged from the back alleys of Death City into the square in front of the cathedral, there wasn’t much to see. She continued sprinting, snow stinging her face, until she reached the crumbling steps and discovered her nightmare.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Ohh God.” She kneeled at the lowest step and brushed her fingers through the smear of black against them. She held up her hand, blood and snow contrasting against her cold skin. Standing, Maka looked frantically around the square for anyone, but it was empty save for the oily light from the street lamps. That flash had been Crona manifesting, self defense? and those gunshots had been Crona dying. 

“You idiot,” she whispered. How could they do that? They could have come up with an alibi, lied - though she knew that would have been futile. “You IDIOT!” She screamed. She didn’t care; her voice was lost to the snow and the streetlamps and the crumbling stone of the church. “How could you do something so stupid?!” 

Submitting to grief, Maka sunk back down. The cold stone of the stairs leached the warmth from her ass almost immediately. “You idiot,” she whispered, and she knew it wasn’t to Crona, because Crona was dead.


	4. Chapter 4

Maka was curled up, knees to chest and hands cupping her warm breath, sharing a blanket with Soul. His arm was wrapped around her out of necessity rather than affection; it must have been below freezing at that point, she reasoned. The pair was huddled together on the front steps of the church, shivering against each other. 

“Good thing we brought a blanket,” Soul chuckled weakly.

“Unfortunate that we didn’t bring more.” Maka’s teeth were chattering, and she considered herself fairly tolerant to harsh weather. “It’s way colder than I remember it being last time I was out this late.” In all honesty, the last time she had been out this late was with Crona, the last escape attempt. It was hours past curfew for the general population.   
Against Maka’s better judgement, she and Soul had paused briefly at the church to rest. 

Soul was silent, lost in thought. “The last time I was here was right after you tried to escape with Crona.”

Maka flinched at the blunt statement.

“I’d been looking for you for hours, and here you were, just sitting. Traumatized, almost. I was so pissed when I found out you’d been trying to leave.”

“Yet here you are,” Maka replied, “trying to escape yourself.”

“Yeah.”

A few moments of silence passed as Maka watched the snow fall, translucent in the weak, oily light of the street lamps. She turned her face away from the large flakes and pressed her frozen nose into Soul’s shoulder. His jacket scratched her damp cheeks.

“It’s my fault,” she muttered into his jacket. “I’m the reason Crona died here. I was the one who convinced them to run away with me, I was the one who told them to run for the church.” She shivered and sniffed.

“Shut up,” Soul replied bitterly. “It was Crona’s decision to manifest like that when the hunters confronted them.”

A jolt of...irritation? coursed through Maka’s chest. She pulled away from her friend’s warm body. “But I put them in danger! They were cornered!”

“They were in danger anyway. They were pretty obviously not human, Maka. They would have been caught even if they hadn’t tried to escape!”

“How could you be like that?” Maka’s whisper had risen to a quiet yell - too quiet for anyone but Soul to hear, but loud enough that she was obviously upset.

“Like what?” Soul didn’t succumb to Maka’s anger. “It wasn’t your fault. You two were probably stealthy enough together that you could have gotten away with it if Crona’s bitch mom hadn’t called the cops the second they went missing. I can’t believe her, trying to act like a good parent. Can’t believe nobody ever found out she was a witch, either.”

“They should have burned her,” Maka growled. Soul had successfully directed her anger off of himself for the moment. But she still wasn’t done beating up on herself.

“Soul, I feel awful every day.” Maka was looking away, unable to meet her friend’s eyes. “One of my best friends died because I was too careless.” 

“It’s not your fault, Maka,” Soul repeated again.

“But I’m guilty! I’m so, so guilty, Soul.” She turned back into his shoulder and sobbed. He held her gently and pressed his lips into her hair, shushing her as she laid bare her soul for him. “ I could have prevented it, could have done something, it could have been me, Crona didn’t deserve it!”

Soul let her cry until her sobs trailed off.

She pulled away and wiped her eyes, smiled like it didn’t happen. “We should get going. We still have to cross the open space on the far side of town.”

Soul nodded and began packing up. Maka shivered and whined as he pulled the blanked off of her. “God, it’s cold.”

Soul stood and then offered Maka his hand. She took it and allowed him to pull her frozen legs straight. She danced on her toes for a few moments, trying to warm up, until Soul told her to take the lead. The remainder of their walk cut through several more city neighborhoods and would eventually lead out into an open field, scanned by searchlights. People had tried to escape before, of course, hence the number of hunters and the stringent security measures in place. Somewhere along Main Street the wind picked up, hurling gusts of snow into the air and stinging Maka’s face. 

“This is the worst,” Soul groaned, loudly so he could be heard over the howling wind, as a clump of snow blown from the roof of a shop clocked him the the side of the head.   
“There’s snow in my jacket now!”

“Don’t be such a baby, this was your idea.” Maka’s attention was only half on her friend as they wove between buildings, attempting not to be seen. They were leaving tracks in the snow at this point, and Maka knew it wouldn’t be long before somebody started to follow them. “We’re almost to the open space.”

In reality, “almost” was a shorter amount of time than Maka had anticipated. It was only a minute or so before the two could see the end of the street. They rushed up and pressed themselves against the wall of the last building before the open space, tethering themselves to the last bit of safety before they threw themselves into the void. The transition from city to nothing was dramatic and immediate, the last row buildings giving way to a flat, dark area. The searchlights were up and running, rays of light illuminating airborne snow and bright discs scrolling over the snow-blanketed ground. The snow cover sent an uneasy shiver through Maka’s body as she realized that there was no way to see any obstacles that may be in their path.

“That’s...further than I remembered it being,” Soul stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s probably about a hundred yards,” Maka estimated. “And we’re gonna have to sprint it.”

“Are you kidding?” Soul turned to her incredulously and Maka shook her head.

“We’ll be too easy to see out there. Our only chance is to keep with the rhythm that the lights scan the field in. We have to time our run so that we make it across all in the dark.”

“So just. You say go, and we sprint.”

“Yep. And if we do get caught in the light, curl up on the ground. This would be easier if there wasn’t as much snow on the ground. We’ll stand out like a sore thumb on top of that.”

Soul laughed. “You’re crazy. We’re gonna die.”

“Don't say that!” Maka snapped. “I won't let them get you.” Soul blinked at her, but didn’t make any remarks. “Will you be ready to go when I tell you to?”

“I guess. If I’m not, I’m pretty much screwed.”

“Stop that.” Maka turned her gaze to the field, watching for several minutes to get used to the rhythm of the lights, painfully aware that every moment they spent standing in the same spot put them in greater danger. Once she got the pattern down (it was difficult; they would have to start running with a light still in their path and run by as it panned away across the field) she turned back to Soul.

“You finally ready?” He asked.

“Yes,” Maka replied haughtily. “I’m going to count down from three, and we’re gonna go, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Run as fast as you can. No. Run faster than you can.”

“‘Kay, jeez, drama girl. You wanna be an actress?”

“Shut up, Soul. Alright.” Maka positioned herself to run. She started to count. Her words seemed to drag on for minutes each - this was it. They were so close. They could do it. 

Thoughts of what would happen once they got over the fence, if they got over the fence, clouded her mind. Would they freeze to death or find a place to stay? Would they even be able to climb the fence? She knew it was high. She held her breath for a moment before uttering the word, “run.”

They broke out of the safety of the houses like horses breaking out of the gate, a spray of snow left in their wake as they sprinted across the field. Freezing air rushed into Maka’s lungs and snow flew into her face, nearly blinding her. She could hear Soul breathing heavily close behind her. She wasn’t a fast runner, and she knew it, but fear was pumping energy into her legs, allowing her to run faster, further…

She heard a gasp and suddenly Soul’s breath wasn’t there, warm on her neck, anymore. She skidded to a halt and turned around so fast that the fell over, scrambling through the snow and trying to find a purchase. She sprinted back over to where Soul was crouching on the ground, clutching his ankle. Maka could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she knelt down and grabbed his jacket.

“Come on!” She tried to pull him to his feet, and he slowly stood up. “Are you okay? Can you run still? We gotta go, we’re gonna get caught!” Maka scanned the field and noticed a searchlight getting closer.

“I think my foot got stuck in a rabbit hole or something. My ankle feels...augh!” Soul’s words were coming quickly now, panic and pain mixing in his voice.

“Can you run?”

“Do I have a choice?”

They set out again but it became quickly apparent that Soul could barely walk, let alone sprint. Maka wrapped an arm around his shoulders to support him, allowing him to lift the injured foot up into the air and hop along as quickly as possible. Every moment was agonizing as Maka thought about the searchlight, getting closer, closer, and they were so close to the fence! Light flashed in her eyes and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, of a hope, that they had been spotted. The light remained trained on them as they continued to hobble painstakingly forward and an escape siren rang through the air. It was strangely familiar, the same siren Maka had heard so many times as she lay warm in her bed at the inn, safe, with Soul sleeping in a bed nearby. A distant call to say that a weapon that Maka had never met and would never know was escaping and would be caught.   
That weapon was never her. That weapon was never Soul.

Maka instinctually started to run faster, Soul attempting to cover more ground with one leg to make up for it. He gasped gently as he overextended his good leg, stumbling and crashing into the drifting snow. His weight bore down on her shoulder and she cried out in surprise as she was hauled down as well. Cold seeped through her coat as she curled up on the ground. Soul was muttering to her frantically, shaking her shoulder, but she didn't move. There wasn't really a chance of escape. Eventually, Soul settled down against the ground as well, curling his body around hers. She didn't know how long they were lying there in the snow before she felt heavy gloved hands pressed against her back, under her arms, hauling her up, handling her roughly and shoving her into some kind of vehicle. Leather gloves brushed her face as the hands blindfolded her roughly. This was it. This was the end. She was going to die. Soul was going to die, when she'd promised to protect him, she'd promised -

Suddenly she was screaming and kicking, lashing out against their captors. She bit what she assumed was a hand and kicked something that felt fleshy. Somebody yelled for help and then something stuck her in the arm.


	5. Chapter 5

Maka was surprised when she woke up again.

Rubbing her head, she sat up. She was in a bed – more of a cot, really – in a room that looked like a prison cell. Or at least what she had imagined a prison cell would be like. Her arm was sore in a couple of places; upon inspection she realized that there was medical tape around her elbow, undoubtedly covering the wound from blood testing. She assumed that her upper arm hurt from whatever they had stuck into it to sedate her. She flexed her bicep and flinched.

Maka was thankful for the toilet in the corner, albeit slightly uncomfortable about how conspicuous it was. She relieved herself anyway, realizing that she had no idea what day it was or how long she had been knocked out. Her jacket was gone, and so were the rest of her clothes, but she had been supplied with a striped jumpsuit. She felt utterly ridiculous, and decided that she actually was in prison. The combat boots she had been wearing when captured rested at the foot of her bed. She decided that between her gnawing hunger and the pain in her arm, she was definitely not dead. It made some sense. It probably hadn't been long enough for the test results to come in.

 _I wonder if Crona was here._ Maka flopped back down on the cot (with far too much force – she was pretty sure it was just wood covered in a sheet) after examining the small room quickly. Well.

I wonder if Soul is okay. He probably hadn't manifested, so he would need testing too before they exterminated him. Maka wondered if stronger weapon blood was easier to spot in the lab. She wondered if Soul was close, just next door, or far away on the other side of...wherever she was. She hoped he was alright, in any case, but realized that hope was futile. Even if he was alive now the both of them would probably be dead within days. This is all my fault. I was stupid for thinking things could go differently this time, and now I have the blood of two friends on my hands. Weren't people supposed to learn from the past?

Suddenly there was a knock at the door – three soft raps. Maka pulled the sheet over herself and lay back down (the wooden bed actually felt really good on her back, but maybe it was just exhaustion), closing her eyes and trying to slow her breathing. She'd heard Soul sleep enough to know about how fast sleeping people should breathe. She hoped she had, at least. After a few moments of fake-sleep, she heard the door swing open, creaking on its hinges. Heavy footsteps approached, and paused next to her bed.

“I know you're not asleep,” a female voice, startlingly close to Maka.

“How?” Maka didn't open her eyes, trying to appear apathetic.

“The warden told me.”

“How did he know?” Maka cracked an eye and sat up. This person didn't seem so bad – she sounded around the same age as Maka, and didn't seem overly hostile.

“Security cameras.” A young woman, a few years older than Maka, stood before her bed, holding a tray with a bowl of soup, a chunk of bread, a cup of something and a few pills on it. A cascade of black hair fell around her face, some of it pulled back into a ponytail. “She sees everything.” Maka hadn't seen any security cameras upon inspection of the room, but she didn't bring it up. The thought was lost as she examined the girl's face more carefully.

“Do I know you?” She asked. The girl's narrow face and gentle eyes were hauntingly familiar.

“No.” The girl set the tray down at the foot of Maka's bed. “You should eat this. You're going to need to save your strength for rehabilitation.”

“Rehabilitation?”

“The weapons rehabilitation program here, founded by the warden.” The response came automatically, the haste of it somewhat disconcerting. “Your blood test results confirmed that you have a percentage of weapon blood. You'll need to be rehabilitated if you're going to live.”

“You’re not going to kill me,” Maka realized slowly.

“If you are properly rehabilitated, the warden will spare your life. She is powerful, but merciful.” The girl wasn't even looking at Maka properly as she recited the information, Maka noted offhand. She had much more pressing thoughts to consider – if weapons weren't killed, where did they all go? And did this mean Soul was alright? Did this mean Crona was alive? “You should eat everything here,” the girl continued. “Someone else will come in a few hours to retrieve your dishes. Thank you.”

“Wait!”

The tall girl paused halfway to the cell door. “What?”

“Thank you.” For a moment, Maka thought she saw a flicker of something in the girl's face. Then she masked it, nodding sharply, and left, slamming the door behind her.

Maka ate ravenously – the ingredients in the soup were indiscernible, but she was too hungry to care. She left the pills alone, not knowing what they were, but she downed everything else in what must have been record time. A few minutes later she vomited it back up into the toilet. Apparently it had been longer than she had expected since her last meal. Then she must have slept for the next few hours, because she was woken by a similar hesitant rapping on the metal door to her cell.

“Come in!” She called, regretting it immediately. This wasn't her space to invite people into. The door opened on her permission anyway.

“I'm here for your dishes.”

“Crona?”

The person who had just entered the cell was unmistakably Crona. Not much thinner and slightly taller, but with the same cobalt eyes and pink hair – unmistakably Crona, and unmistakably alive. But they only blinked. “I need your dishes, please.”

“Crona you're...you're alive!”Maka stood and rushed over to her friend, wrapping her arms around them. They didn't reciprocate, their arms hanging awkwardly at their sides.

“Yeah?”

“Don't you know me? It's me!”

“No I - don't...who are you?”

“I'm Maka!” Maka let go of Crona, resting her hands on their shoulders and looking up into their eyes. “We were best friends for years! You lived across town, we met at school when we were small, but then your mom wouldn't let you come anymore because you had to train. But I visited you still, you snuck out sometimes, we tried to run away on your thirteenth birthday, you got caught by the hunters!”

Crona's gaze remained blank, without any hint of recognition.

“We played witches together when we were kids! Our birthdays were days apart! My dad was in love with your mom before he was captured, you climbed out the window one night when your mom locked you in so we could go ice skating, you were afraid of the snakes in the gutters, the night we tried to escape I dropped a note through your window attached to a rock. It made a horrible noise and you lied to keep your mom from catching us. We ran away and it was snowing, the hunters caught up to us. I escaped over the roof and you escaped through the alleys, but the hunters caught up to you and you manifested, they got you and I thought you were dead...Crona, you're not dead.”

Crona stared at Maka in shock for a few moments. “I don't remember you. I want to. But I don't know if I believe you.” Their brow was furrowed.

“Why would I lie about something like this?” Maka felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

“You could want me to help you escape. You easily could have made all that up.”

“I – your...your mother's name is Medusa. She's a witch and I'm not supposed to know that but you told me when we were six. We were eating ice cream. You said I couldn't tell anyone. Your blood is black and your last name is Gorgon but you don't want that name. You're not a weapon but Ragnarok is. He lives in your blood but you're able to suppress him much better than you used to, which is why he's not here right now. You were born a boy but you aren't a boy or a girl. Your hair is naturally pink but your mom's hair is blonde and you don't know if it came from your dad because you don't know your dad. You're afraid of snakes but you don't like rabbits either. Your favorite color is blue.” Facts spilled out of Maka's mouth, a torrent of information gathered over a lifetime, tears slipping slowly down her face. Crona's eyes widened in a mixture of awe and fear.

“You're the girl,” they whispered.

“What girl?”

“Whisper. She’ll hear.” Crona’s voice was barely a breath. “You’re the one I'm not supposed to remember. They rehabilitated me but I have memories that don’t make any sense without someone else there. They’re foggy, but...”

“But you remember me?”

Crona shook their head, but wrapped their arms around Maka. “I don't really know you,” they breathed, “but we were good friends. I believe you.”

Maka's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a sob. Crona squeezed her tighter.

“Do not,” they hissed. “She is always listening. Do not let her know that I remember you.” Maka nodded into their shoulder, sobbing. Crona pulled away and stared at the wall behind her. Maka started to turn, but Crona stopped her. They dropped to their hands and knees and reached under Maka's cot. There was a sickening crack and they stood back up, holding a limp black snake. “She is not listening anymore. I hate snakes.”

“Oh my God.”

“We can speak freely now.”

“How did you know that was there?”

“Ragnarok told me. He has the same magic as the snakes.”

“Why didn't they kill us?” Maka sat down on the cot, still shaking with the gravity of all of the realizations she had just made.

“They would have two years ago. But no weapons have been killed since my mother became warden.”

“Medusa's the warden?”

“She has been ever since I was captured. She came to retrieve me – I hadn't satisfied her needs yet. But then she realized that, if she worked here, right under the government's   
nose, nobody would realize she was a witch. Or something. And she can build an army of weapons without being questioned.”

“But why?”

Crona shrugged.

“So we're part of her army now?”

“We? Who else is here?”

“Soul. We tried to escape. And got caught.” When Crona looked at her, confused, she clarified. “A friend. You knew him. We're not going to die, but we're part of your mom's weapon army?”

“Yes. But you're going to be rehabilitated first.”

“What does that even mean?”

“They're going to make it so you won't try to escape, won't try to rebel. They're going to retrain you.”

“How?”

“Pain. They’ll suppress your memories, condition you to expect pain if you do something wrong.”

Maka stood up abruptly, trembling again. Torture? “This isn't okay,” she growled. “It's not right for somebody like Medusa to have an entire army at her disposal, it's not right to torture people into obedience. We have to get out of here. Can you find Soul? I'm going to get all three of us out of here.”

“How?”

“I don't know yet. Any ideas?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maka's only around fourteen, and I try to make that apparent in her dialogue. She sometimes uses ridiculously elevated language though lol,


	6. Chapter 6

Crona had taken a few days to successfully locate Soul. Maka hadn't been moved from her room in that time, and hadn't been tortured at all, to her relief. When Crona did finally find him, alive and well with a healing ankle, Maka had begun sending him correspondence via Crona, who would take messages back and forth whenever they were in change of lunch, dishes, cleaning sheets, fixing the toilets, and almost everything else. Medusa seemed relatively short-staffed. Maka had seen the girl with the ponytail - Tsubaki - several more times, but she and Crona were the only staff Maka was aware of aside from the doctor, who was terrifying and had only shown up briefly to check that her arm was alright and that the needles hadn't transmitted any infections.

Crona had explained that the best way to escape was during an upcoming “purge.” Medusa and her officers would be leaving, along with any weapons that had been fully rehabilitated. The containment center, which Maka had learned was built in the catacombs under Death City, would be understaffed, and Crona would be left behind to guard it with Ragnarok and a few hunters. According to them, it was an opportune time to slip away. Maka, Soul and Crona had spent days planning the escape.

Medusa and her weapons would leave at night, and as soon as they were gone, Crona would unlock Soul's door. The two of them would make their way to Maka's room, which was closer to the exit, and free her. They'd all slip by when the guards were goofing off, as Crona assured Maka they were incredibly prone to doing, and that would be that. Then the three of them would escape the fence via a (usually) heavily guarded underground tunnel. Maka was actually amazed at the simplicity of the plan. Medusa appeared to trust   
Crona's obedience too much; they had the power to escape at pretty much any time. Maka guessed that Medusa hadn't counted on their loyalty to Maka.

“What do they even do during a purge?” Maka asked one day after delivering her a note that Soul had written about a dream he'd had. Crona was holding the tray, and Maka was fiddling with a soup spoon. “I can’t imagine it’s what it sounds like.”

“I don't know. They've never had one before. I think Medusa is getting impatient. She wants more weapons, faster. The government doesn't even seem to care what she does at this point. She's going to filter the city, one district at a time.”

It was what it sounded like.

“She can do that?” Maka asked, horrified.

“No. That isn't going to keep her from going house to house, fingerprinting, numbering, and testing every person. Anyone who has weapon blood will be apprehended and rehabilitated.”

“That's horrible – I have weapon blood from my father, and I haven't manifested. I can’t hurt anyone!” The majority of the people in Death City had at least a small percentage of weapon blood. She’d felt it. “She might as well capture the whole city!”

“What can we do about it, Maka?” Crona sounded exhausted.

“I don't know. Where are they starting?”

“By the school. There's a bar over there that they say is a hub for people with weapon blood.” Crona fiddled with the hem of their shirt.

“Oh my God.” Maka dropped the spoon on the floor.

“What?”

“Marie.”

“Maka, no.”

“Crona, Marie is like a mother to me! She owns that inn, and she's a weapon. She let Soul and me stay in the inn after my dad died and he ran away from home. Crona, she's done so much for me. I have to warn her or help her somehow!”

“Maka, that's...that's really noble. But I don't think you're in a position to do anything for her.” Crona put the tray down and sat next to her.

“You said that all of the brainwashed weapons are going with Medusa, right? And the others are staying here?”

Crona looked up hesitantly. “...Yeah?”

“Does she know exactly how many of us there are?” Maka picked up the spoon and jabbed it in Crona's face.

“I dunno. Probably not. Maka, you're scaring me.”

“Crona, I'm really sorry. You've done so much for me already, and I understand if you don't want to risk it. But I have to do this. Without Marie, I wouldn't have lived this long. I   
probably owe my life to her. I need to do this.”

“Does it really mean that much to you?”

Maka nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Then...I'll help. I-” Crona broke off abruptly as Maka pulled them into a tight hug.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered after a moment of squeezing them tightly. “I let you and Soul get caught, but I won't let it happen to Marie.” Crona wrapped their arms around Maka in return.

“Then we need to let Soul know there's been a change of plan.”


	7. Chapter 7

The night of the “purge” came a week later. Maka slipped her boots on and sat on her rock-hard mattress, waiting for Crona and Soul. Medusa was gathering the weapons, and Crona was going to bring the two of them along and sneak them out so they could run ahead to warn Marie. As soon as Crona rapped on the door once, Maka was on her feet.

“Soul!” Maka threw herself at her friend, who wrapped her in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered into his hair. He hugged her tightly in return, while Crona looked on from the doorway, rubbing their arm awkwardly.

Maka released her friend and backed away. “Are you okay? How’s your ankle? Oh God, it’s my fault you got hurt, and captured, I thought you were dead! Please forgive me, Soul, I-”

Soul held his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, whoa.” he laughed. “Maka! I’m fine. My ankle’s all good, see?” He hopped on one foot (presumably the one that had been injured) to demonstrate. “And it’s not your fault. This was my idea to begin with, remember? And now we’re gonna get out of here.” He turned to Crona. “And thanks for your help. We’re  
counting on you.”

Crona laughed nervously and looked off to the side. “Heh, yeah.” Suddenly their eyes snapped back up to meet Maka’s. “We’d better go,” they said, voice hushed. “They’ll be leaving really soon.”

“Are there any guards left?” Maka asked.

“No. They’re all up in the main building with Medusa’s army. There was nobody on our way here.”

“Good. C’mon. Follow Crona.”

There really weren’t any guards in the lower building. Maka looked around as they walked briskly along, intrigued. She hadn’t seen any of the facility aside from her cell. It looked like a maze of halls, stone walls punctuated by heavy iron doors. Maka was glad Crona knew their way around this place as the three of them traveled up stairs and turned left and right. 

“Are we underground?” Soul asked after they had scaled several short flights of stairs.

“Yes. We’re under the field between the city and the wall. These catacombs were where weapons were originally held before extermination, or just kept imprisoned. My mother uses them for soldiers’ quarters. We’ll come up into that old tin building in the field.”

“Oh! That’s what that random building is for?” Soul sounded like one the universe’s great questions had been answered. 

“Yes. There’s a hall in the back that we’ll come up into. All of the people will be in a big room off to the side. We’ll slip out the back door and run.”

“We’ll beat them to the inn and warn Marie,” Maka assured herself.

“Okay,” Crona said. “Here we are. Be absolutely silent.”

It was easier than expected for the three of them to slip out the back of the building, and once they were out, they took off running. Maka took the lead, anxious to get back in time. The ground was packed hard with frost, and each step jarred Maka’s legs. The snow had almost completely melted, but the sky was overcast and seemed to threaten more.  
Maka led her friends straight through the field around the perimeter of the town - at this point it wouldn’t matter if they were seen. Danger was already behind them. They made it back to the inn in a fraction of the time that it had taken to cut through the town - but the army was certainly only minutes behind. Maka wasted no time in bursting through the door, a gust of cold air billowing in behind her.

Marie’s eyes opened wide in surprise as she took in the three teenagers. She rushed out from behind the front desk, opening her mouth as if to speak, but Maka cut her off.

“There’s no time to explain. We were captured. But there’s an army of weapons on its way here right now. They know this is a hotspot for people with weapon blood. They’re going to test everyone in this part of town - and capture anyone with even a bit of weapon blood.”

“Maka, I don’t...who is that?” Marie looked at Crona, confusion furrowing her brow. “I don’t understand.”

“You have to leave. I know you have weapon blood, Marie. They’re going to capture you and turn you into a mindless soldier, just like the rest of the weapons. They’re going to be here any minute now! You have to hide! We have to warn your neighbors!”

“No.”

“Marie, please!”

“No, Maka. You said it yourself- I have weapon blood. I know Soul does. We can fight them.”

“Not the four of us, it’s-”

Crona moved around Maka to face Marie, interrupting their friend. “You need to leave, Ma’am. There are too many to fight. You’ll all be captured and tortured. People with weapon blood who can’t manifest will probably be killed. My mother is building a mindless army, and we don’t want anyone in this neighborhood to become part of it.”

Marie took the three children in with eyes more calculating than Maka had expected from a person as warm as her. “Maka, I know the people in this neighborhood. You can sense them, right? So many of us have weapon blood. Those who don’t can wield those who do. There isn’t time to get everyone out, but there’s time to fight back.”

“They won’t be able to resonate-”

“Family members will. Lovers will. There isn’t time to argue. Thank you for warning me, but I’m going to fight.”

“There isn’t time to rally the entire neighborhood,” Soul argued.

“Not by myself. But if the four of us go house to house, and the people we recruit go house to house, we can do it in time. There isn’t time to argue. Will you help me?”

Maka regarded Marie for a few moments. This woman was like a mother to her. And she was right. There wasn’t time to escape - and where would they move that many people? 

“I’m in,” Maka agreed.

Soul looked at her, surprised, before sighing. “I guess that means I am too.”

“And me as well,” Crona added. “And Ragnarok too.”

“Good. Now, go! Go to as many houses as you can. Nearly everyone here has some amount of weapon blood.”

 

People were more willing to fight than Maka had anticipated, and soon enough they had amassed a small army of their own. People were running through the streets, knocking on doors, recruiting family and friends for the impromptu battle. Suddenly, people at the north end of the street, closer to the inn, began to freeze. A message passed down the street in worried whispers: “they’re here.”

Maka, Crona and Soul made their way to the front of the street, where a small army of people in striped jumpsuits stood, some holding weapons, some partially transformed into blades and spears, chains and arrows. Opposing them, an even smaller army of townspeople, drastically outnumbered, sisters wielding brothers, mothers wielding daughters, husbands wielding wives. At the head of one crowd was Marie; at the head of the other stood that wicked woman, she who Maka had despised since childhood. Crona tensed and a black blade manifested in their hand. Maka looked at them for a moment, spellbound, before she felt Soul take her hand.

“Wield me?” he asked. Maka nodded. After what looked like a bit of effort, Soul transformed in a short burst of light. He was a scythe, red and black and sharp and beautiful, and when Maka took him in her hands it burnt for a moment. She could feel his soul, a strange, rough sensation sliding against something inside her. Maka reached for it, and suddenly something meshed like the teeth of a gear, a solid sensation just to the side of her heart. Maka didn’t have any experience fighting, but he felt light and easy to manage in her hands.

Marie was still locked in tense conversation with Medusa, who looked as if something had gotten in the way of an important appointment. 

“Miss Mjolnir. I’m afraid that we’ll have to take our samples by force if you do not comply. Do you see the number of people I have on my side? You won’t stand against us. I don’t even need half the samples I thought I did; you fools have sold yourselves out to me. You don’t stand a chance.”

“We stand a small chance, and it’s a chance we’re willing to take.”

“Very well.” Medusa raised her right hand into the air and turned to her army of weapons. “Charge them on my command. Do not hesitate to kill anyone wielding a weapon. Take any person in weapon form prisoner. These people are all clearly dangerous traitors.” She stared into her ranks for a moment before dropping her hand to her side. Her ranks surged forward without hesitation, and Marie’s responded in kind. The sound of clashing weapons filled the air, and Medusa vanished, reappearing on the roof of Marie’s inn, out of the way of the fighting. 

Maka braced herself against the impact of a black sword, wielded by a dark-haired girl with a soul she could tell was also that of a weapon. Maka was surprised to find that she  
could block the girl’s attacks with the shaft of her scythe, feeling Soul working with her to fight. I barely have to do anything! Maka and the brunette chased circles around each other, Maka fighting mainly with the shaft of her weapon to avoid hurting the other, who, in spite of her most valiant efforts to slice Maka’s head off, had only managed to give her superficial cuts. The girl stumbled away briefly after Maka shoved her, and in the brief reprieve Maka glanced to her side, where Crona and Ragnarok were locked in battle with a dark-haired man wielding a chainsaw. Crona was struggling as much as Maka to stay on the defensive and not injure their opponent, who was likely just a puppet of their mother.

The girl was back on top of Maka within a second, and Maka felt herself being driven back. The clashing of metal and the sounds of people crying out - in anger, fear, pain - were more apparent to her after the initial adrenaline had worn off, and she managed to turn slightly so she could speak to Crona.

“This is never going to work!” she yelled over the din. “They have the advantage - we’re outnumbered, and we can’t fight all out!”

“What do you suggest we do?” Maka started for a moment when she heard Soul’s voice coming from the scythe in her hands, tinnier than usual, but clearly his. “We can’t let them kill us.”

“Crona, what can we do?”

“You’re-” a grunt as they thrust their sword between the tines of the chainsaw, which made a concerning sound as it tried to cut through it, “asking me?”

“Your mother is in charge of this army!” Maka shouted, maneuvering closer until she was practically back-to-back with her friend. “Is there a way to stop them?”

“They’re conditioned to do what she tells them - I can’t command them! They know I can’t hurt them. I think there’s something about her magic that helps with the effects of the torture, amplifies their reaction to her? I don’t know!”

“What if we targeted - do you mind?” Maka hit the dark-haired girl, who had resorted to stabbing at Maka’s legs, over the head with the shaft of her scythe, and she dropped to the ground, unconscious. Her sword lay on the ground, refusing to return to human form. “What if we just went straight after Medusa?” Maka glanced up at the roof of the building, where Medusa stood, surveying the carnage.

Crona mimicked Maka’s actions and hit the tall man in the temple with the flat of their sword as soon as he left an opening. He dropped his chainsaw on his way to the ground, and it transformed into a small mousy girl before fleeing. “That might work,” they said, somewhat reluctantly. “If we take her out, they won’t know what to do. But in the meantime her army is going to come after us. We’ll have to go around back of the inn.” Maka was surprised when they motioned for her to follow, and the two (four) of them ducked into the shadows, out of the way of the fighting.

“We can’t defeat her alone! I thought we would be taking more than just the three of us,” Maka argued quietly. She had expected a planning period, a premeditated diversion, something. “They’ll just recapture us.”

“They’ll capture us if we don’t go after her, and they’ll stop us before we can get backup. We have to do it alone.”

“I can’t let us get caught again! I’ve made this mistake too many times already.”

“People are dying!” Crona yelled. They caught themself bashfully. “Trust me, Maka.”

“I trusted Soul, I thought we could make it out, and look where that got us!”

“Hey!” Soul exclaimed, transforming into his usual, very offended-looking self.

Maka ignored him. “This is my fault. We should have run for it while we could. I put you two in danger again.”

“Maka! Trust me.” Crona placed their hand on Maka’s shoulder. “I trusted you.”

“How do you know it’ll be okay?”

“I don’t,” Crona frowned. “But this is literally the only option right now.”

Maka laughed nervously in response. Soul took her hand and squeezed it. “Alright. If we manage to pull this off, we can take this army down. We can free these weapons. Crona,  
you’re in charge.”

“Wh-me? Shut up, Ragnarok,” Crona muttered the last part to no one in particular before turning back to Maka and Soul. “I can’t be in charge, I’m-” Crona trailed off, drowned out by a wail of anguish from the street. A look of determination replaced the uncertainty in their face. “We have to stop this.”

“So what do we do, Crona?” Soul grinned. “How do we take down your mom?”

 

There was a building a few houses down from the inn that had a fire escape ladder up to the flat rooftop. The three friends climbed to the roof of that building, then jumped across to the next one. It was truly a terrible plan. Medusa saw them coming, silhouetted against the grey sky, long before they reached her, but it was the only thing they’d been able to think of. Glancing to the side, Maka could see the fighting in the street below. Marie’s arm had transformed into a warhammer, which she was currently using to beat several different opponents.

Medusa was looking at the three approaching teens with some confusion. When they finally reached her, she stood in a casual position, approaching them with some degree of nonchalance. 

“Crona, dear, what are you doing here?” She glanced at the jumpsuits that Soul and Maka still wore. “Why are these two on the roof? Shouldn’t they be fighting?”

“Lady Medusa, please call this purge off.”

Surprise flashed in the witch’s eyes for a brief moment. “Why would I do that? Look how many weapons are here for us to claim. We’ll soon have an army big enough to take directly to the state government.”

“Why do you need all these weapons, anyway?” Soul asked abruptly. 

Suspicion darted through the witch’s gaze, but she masked it quickly. “To take back what is rightfully ours. Our freedom.” Medusa came closer, circling around Crona and placing her hands on their shoulders. “I was born within these walls,” she explained, in a tone that implied a bedtime story. “But I knew we didn’t belong here. Witches and weapons, we have the power to rule the world. That’s why they detain us here. They know that we could easily overpower them.”

Medusa moved from Crona to Maka, bending over to look her in the eyes. “But slowly, over the years, they’ve whittled our numbers down. Made us weak.” She looked up at Soul.  
“They planned to exterminate us. But we don’t deserve that,” She returned to her position standing before the three teens. “We deserve to be free. And if you join me, we can build this army up. We can fight our way out of these fences. We can fight our way to the top of the world.”

“You can’t kill innocent people for that!” Maka cried. “You can’t torture people to make them see your side of things! We didn’t deserve to be trapped here and hunted, but these weapons don’t deserve to be hunted down and trapped in your prison and brainwashed into fighting for your twisted cause! You can’t do that!”

“I can!” Medusa snapped, her frosty breath hanging in the cooling air. “And I will. And I do. It’s a means to an end, my dear.” She spat the pet name with a venom that sent Maka stumbling back, struggling to balance on the arch of the inn’s roof.

“Can’t you see you’re no better than the people who hunted you?” Maka yelled. “You hunt and kill and enslave just as they did, you plan to take the world under the same type of control the government has over this city!”

“And I will make them pay,” Medusa concluded, a darkness to her voice that suited her much better than the sickening sweetness of her facade.

“Not if we can help it,” Crona growled.

“Shut up!” Medusa screamed at her child. “Stay out of this, or I’ll punish you harshly.”

“You have to stop!”

“Do you want to go without food?”

“Leave them alone!” Maka rushed forward, cutting Medusa off with a sharp shove to her chest. But the witch was quick on her feet and steady, and stumbled only briefly before regaining her balance. She smirked wickedly, baring her teeth at the girl. 

“Maka!” Soul and Crona yelled in unison as Soul transformed into a scythe once again and Crona pulled their sword out of thin air. 

“What’s your name, girl?” Medusa asked, spreading her feet and assuming a defensive stance. Maka could feel her summoning magic.

“Maka Albarn.” Before Medusa could cast a spell, Maka swiped at her with Soul. She dodged, lightning fast, and came up behind the pair. Maka whirled around, her movements limited on the sharp slope of the roof, and hooked her scythe around the woman, who grasped the shaft of the weapon and used it to vault over Maka’s head.

“Not a very experienced fighter, are you, Maka?” Medusa smirked, casting a spell that shot Maka back into the inn’s chimney, knocking the breath out of her. She watched as Medusa approached slowly, magic snaking around her outstretched arms. “But there’s power in you, just as there’s power in me, in your weapon, in my child. We could take over the world together, Maka.”

“No!” Maka pushed away from the chimney, but was unable to circle around Medusa without falling from the roof of the two-story inn. She slashed out with Soul a few more times, but Medusa dodged her blows as if she was simply humoring the girl. Maka felt her foot slip off the end of the building and threw her weight forward to keep herself from falling.

“Last chance, Maka,” Medusa grinned from above. Maka glared up defiantly. “You foolish girl.”

But Medusa’s attention was suddenly very much consumed by the blade pressing against her throat. Maka grinned in relief. Crona had come up behind their mother, and now had her in a helpless position - but only until she could summon the magic to move. Maka suddenly realized that she hadn’t planned for this. What would she do now that they had  
Medusa where they wanted her? Would they kill her?

It turned out she didn’t have to make the decision. Medusa turned to escape Crona’s hold, and while she was off balance, Maka swept at her with the shaft of her scythe. When Medusa attempted to regain her balance from that attack, Crona kicked her from the other side. Together they pushed her off the roof to the ground below, where she hit the ground with a thud and groaned. She attempted to stand, but fell.

Maka and Crona watched in awe and horror as the army of townspeople turned on the fallen witch. Somebody ran her through with a sword.  
Crona made a strangled sound in their chest.

It started to snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who can't write Medusa or battle scenes.


	8. Chapter 8

“Maka! Maka, wake up!”

“Ten minutes.”

“Maka, please get out of bed. The world leaders are about to speak.”

Maka opened her eyes slowly to see Soul and Crona standing over her bed. She sat up and glanced around the room to find that they had both made their beds and were dressed warmly.

“Maka, I can’t believe that we get to watch real, uncensored television for the first time in our lives and you’re laying around,” Soul complained.

“They’re going to formally announce the probation,” Crona added. “We’re actually going to be free.”

“Get up!” Soul yelled, kicking her cot.

“Alright, guys, I’m up. Get outta here, I need to get dressed!” The two complied, and Maka hurriedly dressed herself in warm clothes. She pulled on long socks and laced her combat boots tightly before stepping into the hallway. “Good morning,” she greeted them, her voice laced with sarcasm. 

“Good morning,” Crona replied, pretending not to notice. Maka giggled.

“Come on, let’s go! The bar is filling up already,” Soul groaned. The three of them jogged downstairs - the inn was closed, and nobody stood at the front desk. Marie was across the street at the bar. Maka smiled when they opened the door. There was almost a foot of snow on the ground, and wisps of cloud floated across the morning sky. She grinned and ran across the street, leaving a trail where she had dragged her feet. Her friends laughed and followed after locking the door. 

Marie was standing behind the bar, and waved when the three entered. “Good morning, Maka, Soul, Crona!” 

“Good morning, Marie!” They chorused.

“How did you sleep?” She asked, grinning knowingly at Maka, who rolled her eyes as she plopped down on a bar stool. Everyone in the bar had their eyes trained on the fuzzy screen of Marie’s bulky television, which stood on a table in the corner of the room. Currently it was playing a commercial for something useless, but everyone was fascinated. Nobody had ever seen an infomercial.

People chatted softly, smiling and laughing, until an important sounding music clip played. The screen was displaying the logo of a news station nobody had even known existed.  
Soul nudged Maka with his elbow and nodded to the screen. Crona squeezed her hand.

“Breakthrough in the Death City controversy that has plagued our nation for decades!” A woman announced. The screen showed images of the town as the audience watched with bated breath. “As I’m sure you all know, last week this seventy-year-old Nevada city was shaken by a breach of security.” A picture of the inn panned from left to right. “This detainment center was created in 1904 to sequester those who could transform into weapons or wield magic from the ordinary population. Recent breakthroughs, however, have revealed that the local prison was being transformed into an army barrack, hosting a possibly lethal force.” 

Medusa’s face and name appeared, and Crona tensed. Maka looked at them sadly. The death of their mother had shaken them, regardless of her past abuse. “This prison warden  
had reconditioned known weapons, who were detained in the prison, to follow her every command, creating an army that could eventually, in her opinion, overthrow the United  
States government itself. For the past week, world leaders have convened and discussed this issue, and last night, they formally announced their decision.”

“That’s the president!” Someone yelled as a pre-recorded video of a man standing at a podium took over the TV screen.

“It has come to our attention,” the man was saying, “that the basic rights of these people were violated in their detainment, and that the lack of control we exercised over Death City has put our nation in jeopardy. Therefore, I am proud to formally announce that the people of Death City will enter a probationary period, effective the third of January, during which we will assess the security of the city and the safety of integrating these weapons into society. I would like to make it perfectly clear that there will be no weapons or witches walking the streets immediately, and while we must further discuss the fate of these people, they no longer need live in fear of being captured and oppressed.”

A cheer erupted in the bar. Maka wrapped her arms around Soul and Crona, tears streaming down her face. The plan had already been announced to them, of course, but it was official now. The world knew.

The woman’s voice returned. “The blueprints are already being drawn for a center where manifested weapons can go to train and learn to hone and responsibly use their abilities. It seems that the nation is at the start of a long journey of integration and acceptance. This is Azusa Yumi for MDWA News, signing off.” The sound clip played again, and somebody turned the television off.

Maka turned and hugged Marie over the bar, laughing through her tears. Then she stood up and ran out the door, ignoring the bewildered shouts from behind her. She stopped in the middle of the snowy road and stood, looking up at the sky, laughing out loud with her arms spread wide. Crona and Soul appeared in the doorway, smiling. 

Maka spared them a warm glance before turning her attention back to the sky. “We did it!” she screamed.

**Author's Note:**

> Parts of this are like 11 months old,,, this first chapter is all new for Resbang but chapter two is all old, and the idea is probably almost exactly a year old


End file.
